't deny it," said Roma.

"Holy Virgin! She doesn't deny it! Perhaps you admit it?"

"I do admit it."

"Madonna mia! She admits it! Perhaps you made an appointment?"

"No, I went without an appointment."

"Merciful heavens! She is on such terms with the man that she can go to
his apartments without even an appointment! Perhaps you were alone with
him, miss?"

"Yes, we were quite alone," said Roma.

The old lady, who was apparently about to faint right away, looked up at
her little shrine, and said:

"Goodness! A girl! Not even a married woman! And without a maid, too!"

Trying not to lose control of herself, Roma stepped to the door, but her
aunt followed her up.

"A man like that, too! Not even a gentleman! The hypocrite! The
impostor! With his airs of purity and pretence!"

"Aunt Betsy," said Roma, "I was sorry I spoke to you as I did the other
night, not because anything I said was wrong, but because you are weak
and bedridden and suffering. Don't provoke me to speak again as I spoke
before. I did go to Mr. Rossi's rooms yesterday, and if there is any
fault in that, I alone am to blame."

"Are you indeed?" said the old lady, with a shrill, piping cry. "Holy
Saints! she admits so much! Do you know what people will call you when
they hear of it? A hussy! A shameless hussy!"

Roma was flaming up, but she controlled herself and put her hand on the
door-handle.

"They _will_ hear of it, depend on that," cried the Countess. "Last
night at dinner the women were talking of nothing else. Felice heard all
their chattering. That woman let the dog out to follow you, knowing it
would go straight to the man's rooms. 'Whom did it come home with,
Felice?' 'Donna Roma, your Excellency.' 'Then it's clear where Donna
Roma had been.' Ugh! I could choke to think of it. My head is fit to
split! Is there any cognac...?"

Roma's bosom was visibly stirred by her breathing, but she answered
quietly:

"No matter! Why should I care what is thought of my conduct by people
who have no morality of their own to judge me by?"

"Really now?" said the Countess, twisting the wrinkles of her old face
into skeins of mock courtesy. "Upon my word, I didn't think you were so
simple. Understand, miss, it isn't the opinion of the Princess Bellini I
am thinking about, but that of the Baron Bonelli. He has his dignity to
consider, and when the time comes and he is free to take a wife, he is
not likely to marry a girl who has been talked of